


Everything Has a Price

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vacation time for the crew of the Lost Light. Trouble and snow, romance and love, hate and pain....I suck at summaries. Ratchet realizes Drift means more to him than he thought, Rodimus doesn't realize he is obsessed with his third in command and is a complete dick about it and First Aid realizes that he loves Blurr more than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. It does not follow canon very well...if you like Roddy, ya might wanna skip this one. :P Ummmmm, I think that's it...oh, I am mostly indulging myself here and a very good friend ( Rai! XD) so bear with me and I hope you enjoy...

“This is gonna be great great great great great!! I can’t wait! I can’t believe that we are actually getting a break some R and R oh Aid Aid Aid aren’t you excited? Cos I’m excited! I mean I get to run run run run run run and I haven’t been able to run in sosososososososososososososooooooo long and it’s been driving me nuts nuts nutsnuts nuts being cooped up on this ship with nowhere to go nothing to do do do do do do but now now now we’re gonna stop for a little bit and I can run! Do ya wanna watch me huh huh huh huh do ya do ya do ya do ya?!” Blurr bounces up and down extremely excitedly as he makes way down the corridor of the Lost Light with his mate, First Aid, on their way to the bay doors with the rest of the crew, with a huge grin on his face. 

First Aid laughs as he watches his blue mate happily bounce along. “Yes, I am very happy for the break, believe you me, but unfortunately, I have to go with Ratchet to stock up on medical supplies while we are here, but I promise you I will catch up with you later. I don’t like the idea of you running on that leg, Blurr, it still bothers you and it is weak. I don’t want you to get hurt…”

Blurr’s grin only gets wider as he listens to his chiding, “Oh Aid! You worry too much! I’ll be fine, silly! No big deal. ‘Sides, I used to race with way worse injuries.” Blurr shoots his mate a playfully smug smirk while filling his side of their bond with love and comfort, his exhilaration over being able to run assaulting its way through as well.

“Oh Blurr…I love you.” First Aid kisses his mate as the doors open, Blurrs optics closing than opening as he feels air rush in and over his vents. First Aid breaks the kiss and smiles lovingly up at his racer. “Go. I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Yeah? Ya sure?”

“Yes. Now go!” First Aid chuckles at the grin on his mates face.

“Love you love you love you!!” Blurr kisses First Aid one last time and takes off down the ramp knocking a few mechs down as he speeds by them; his loud squeal of glee echoing in his wake.

“He that fast in the berth too?” Rodimus teases as he walks up behind First Aid. 

The apprentice CMO blushes as he walks down the ramp, admiring the flowing waves of dust in the distance from his Little Racer. “Not that it’s ANY of your business,” he answers, humor in his vocalizer, “but no, surprisingly not, although his speed can do some wonderfully amazing things…” 

Rodimus can only gape at First Aids admission, a tingle racing through his own equipment. “Really? You should share…”

“Honestly is that all any of you can think of?” Ratchet appears from behind both Rodimus and his apprentice, unable to resist throwing in his opinion as the trio makes their way outside.

First Aid gives a little jump and laughs, “Well, no, but he did ask. It appears our captain has his mind somewhere else. Isn’t that right, Rodimus? Uh, Rodimus?” First Aid follows his captains glance over to Drift, who is currently twisting his frame around to look at something on his back and has no idea just how well that position shows off his beautiful frame. “Like I said, Ratchet, his mind...is…Ratchet?” First Aid stops and turns around looking up at his mentor whose optics are fixed on the swordsmech as well; so well that he walks right into First Aid.

“Slaggit all! Aid! Why’d ya stop?” Ratchet growls, watching as Rodimus rushes over to Drift. 

“I was merely pointing out that Rodimus brought it up and that his mind was elsewhere, but then again, so is yours!” First Aid laughs. “Listen, boss, if you want, I’ll go and grab the supplies, that way you can go woo our third in command.”

“Pfft! I don’t know what you’re talking about...woo…please…I could care less about that pain my aft,” Ratchet has not taken his optics off of Drift, who now has Rodimus brushing something off of his back and Rodimus can’t seem to remove his hands from Drifts frame. Drift on the other hand looks decidedly uncomfortable at the touching and is desperately looking for an escape. Drift suddenly spots First Aid and Ratchet, a look of absolute relief and something…else as his optics meet Ratchets. The white and red mech says something and darts over to the medics, much to the dismay of Rodimus, who starts to walk over only to be cornered by Ultra Magnus.

“Uh huh, sure, boss,” First Aid teases as he notices the change in Ratchets electromagnetic field (EMF) when Drift approaches.

Drift trots up and flashes a huge, beautiful grin, “Hey guys! Where ya headed? Mind if I tag along?” 

First Aid grins equally as big and never one to miss an opportunity to match make, cuts off Ratchet before he can reject Drift and nods, “Of course you can come along! We were just going to pick up some medical supplies and your help is most appreciated!”

“Great! Thanks!”

Ratchet looks absolutely horrified for all of a split second before he grunts, rolls his optics and starts off walking again, this time in front of First Aid. “Come on then twinkle toes, but do me a favor and keep the sword swinging to a minimum,”

Drift cants his helm and looks at First Aid mouthing “Twinkle toes?” 

First Aid shrugs and laughs and walks with Ratchet as Drift stands there dumbfounded before rushing to catch up. 

Drift sidles up to Ratchet and flashes another beautiful grin, “So, ya know, I, uh, well, um, I never got the chance to thank you, ya know…about Delphi,” suddenly feeling bad and not wanting to leave First Aid out of the thank you, Drift turns around to face First Aid, walking backwards, “a-and thank you too First Aid, I mean you were—“ Drift trips over a rock and falls backward awkwardly letting out a loud yelp as he lands hard, flat on his back. 

First Aid holds back a chuckle and pretends to be receiving a comm from Blurr so that Ratchet can help Drift up. “Oh, yes, dear?”

Ratchet rolls his optics again as he looks down at Drift, “Aren’t you supposed to be graceful?” Ratchet smirks and holds out his hands, the embarrassed expression on Drifts face taking Ratchet back to the Dead End all those years ago when Drift had a similar expression gracing his face. His optics lock on Drifts, ignoring the flutter in his spark that most definitely did NOT happen.

Drift feels his faceplates flush with embarrassment as he locks optics with Ratchet, his spark flipping and fluttering wildly in its chamber. “Graceful, when…” he gratefully takes hold of Ratchets hands, his spark racing, and hauls himself up the force of which puts him inches from Ratchets face. “…g-going forward,” Drift smiles nervous and crookedly as he gazes up into Ratchets optics, very much aware of their close proximity.

First Aid almost squeals with excitement at hoping to be the first to witness Ratchet and Drifts first kiss. 

Ratchet gazes back into Drifts optics and returns the crooked smile. He squeezes Drifts hands, rubbing the backs with his thumbs. “Going forward…” Ratchet parrots nervously. 

“Y-yeah…forward…” Drift blinks and stands on the tip of his pedes pushing himself closer into Ratchet, his spark thrumming so hard in his chest he’s sure Ratchet can hear it. “I-I..uh…was…erm, wanted to thank y-you for s-saving my life…again…” Drift blushes bright red all the way up to the tips of his finials.

“Don’t gotta thank me, kid. I should, uh, thank you though…for saving my life, ya know …” Ratchet smiles again, his optics slowly closing as he leans in a little closer. Drift smiles as he too closes his optics and puckers his lips ever so slightly in long awaited anticipation. 

First Aid entwines his fingers and holds them under his chin as he too leans in with anticipation. 

And then BAM! A large stick rockets into the CMO’s back followed by a gallivanting Bob in pursuit. “Ow! What the frag!? Bob?!” Ratchet turns around livid, yet relieved (?) at the interruption. “Sunstreaker!!” 

Drift sighs and stares at the back of Ratchet, shoulders slumped, clearly upset.

Oh…poor Drift, First Aids spark goes out to the swordsmech. He walks over to Drift and offers a tender smile. “Don’t worry, Drift, it will be alright. You’ll have another chance,” 

“Sunstreaker! Get your aft over here!” Ratchet growls as he picks up the stick. Bob sits and whines, none too patient as he waits for Ratchet to throw his stick. 

Rodimus comes walking over smug as can be. “Oh, hey! Sorry about that, Ratch, I didn’t see ya! Sunny let me have Bob for a little bit…he went someplace where pets aren’t permitted or some slag like that,” Rodimus laughs and then slides his optics over to Drift feigning surprise at seeing him. “Hey, Drift! There you are! Glad I found you, I need you to come back to the ship with me…it’s important,”

“Didn’t see me?” Ratchet glares. “Ya need to be more careful…” He stops when he realizes Rodimus is not listening to a word he says.

“But I…I am going with Ratchet and First Aid to help them get medical supplies…and I haven’t actually had a break in a long time and I need to talk to Ratchet and—“ Drift rubs the back of his neck, sliding his hand up to his finial and idly scratching at the base of it.

“And that all sounds very boring and I need you. Your captain. You are my third in command, Drift. You have a duty. Now let’s go,” Rodimus steps in between First Aid and Drift, grabbing the melancholic swordsmech by his shoulders and ushering him away. “Say goodbye, Drift,” 

Drift looks back helplessly as he is ushered away, desperately not wanting to go with Rodimus. Bob bounces along after Rodimus and Drift, reluctantly leaving his mean stick behind.

First Aid knows full well what Rodimus is up to and is not at all happy about it. He is especially not happy the way Drift flinches from the touch and how he is being treated. “Now wait just a minute, sir, we could use Drifts help!”

Ratchet places his hand on his apprentices shoulder, “Not worth your time, Aid…he won’t listen anyway,”

“But…but it’s not fair, Ratchet! You and Drift were about to kiss and it was gonna be great! It was so romantic! Rodimus did that deliberately! And please tell me you saw how uncomfortable Drift was!?”

“Kiss?! What?! No…no…that was nothing, he was just thanking me! Nothing more…pfft kiss…that would mean there’s something there…Aid, you’re crazy…” Ratchet begins walking toward the bazaar the planets capital city is famous for.

First Aid walks alongside his mentor, still upset. “Ratch, I’m not crazy. I see the way you two look at each other. You two are crazy for each other! Why can’t you just admit it? And you were going to kiss him; I don’t care what you say. But that can be addressed later, which it very well will be, in the meantime, of more concern to me is how Drift reacted to Rodimus…please tell me you noticed!”

Both mechs stop in front of the ornate entrance to the bazaar. Their optics are met with a dazzling array of lights, signs and fine craftsmanship all around them. The entranceway is a huge stone archway with a wide expanse of wall extending to the left and the right of them. Straight-ahead lies hundreds of shops ranging from small kiosks to big warehouses carrying a variety of goods with anything and everything anyone could possibly want. A large touch screen directory attached to the main wall provides directions and information to the store of your choosing and conveniently downloads into your data pad. 

“Wow…impressive,” First Aid takes it all in as Ratchet seeks out what they need and downloads the information.

“Not bad. Definitely convenient. Ready?” Ratchet resumes walking to the medical supply warehouse.

“Yes...Ratchet?” Eager to return to the subject at hand, First Aid prods his CMO again.

“Yes, I noticed. I have noticed that a lot, actually and I have been meaning to bring it up to Drift. He never liked to be touched anyway, but his behavior has gotten worse and his reactions to our captain are worrisome for sure.”

“What should we do? Do you think Rodimus would hurt him?” First Aid stops walking and faces Ratchet, concern pulsing strong in his EMF.

Ratchet sighs heavily, “I don’t know and I hope not…we’ll have to talk to Drift.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess this story is going to be long as well lol...I'm sure there are a ton of mistakes and I apologize...and, well, Roddy is a big ol'dick. I apologize to my Rodimus fans out there. lol...but Roddy does dick sooo well! lol And my poor Drift...I just wanna hug him and love him and squeeze him and...and...and....well....you know...lol....

“WOOOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!” Blurr laughs joyfully shouting with elation as he tears across the open fields. Oh so good so good so good so good good good! Oh does it feel so good to run! The heady sensation of air surging through his vents is like a drug—but better. Way better. The blue racers stomach and thigh vents open wider the faster he goes; frigid air rushing through cooling his overheated systems. His side pipes glow bright red from the exertion, coolant rushing in a fervent pulse through his lines. Data flows in his HUD providing Blurr with a steady stream of input varying from air temperature to humidity to speed to the temperature and levels of fluids in his systems. And Blurr being Blurr, promptly ignores all of it, concerned only with that wonderfully intoxicating feeling of speed, which he gleefully exalts again. “WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!” 

The afternoon sun, which has been warming the racers plating for the entirety of his run thus far, finally relents to the onslaught of dark clouds which open up dropping their payload of snow. Blurr giggles as the little white flakes land on him, hissing as they melt instantaneously from the exorbitant amount of heat his frame is expelling. He darts across the freshly fallen snow, sliding and spinning and running having the time of his life. 

********

Rodimus can’t help the smug set of his lips as he glides his optics lasciviously over Drifts frame as the swordsmech enter his office. Mmm…those hips…that waist...he sure did pick the sexiest third in command ever! He can’t wait to have Drift bent over his desk, aft in the air begging for his spike while he--

Bob picks up on something in the brightly colored mechs EMF and whimpers; backing up and darting away, relieved that neither mech notices.

“Rodimus?….Uh…Rodimus?” Drift turns around and catches Rodimus licking his lips, the captains optics nowhere near Drifts face. Drift grows increasingly uncomfortable, the desire to run all too prevalent.

“Hm? Oh, what were you saying?” Reluctantly Rodimus shifts his optics back up to meet Drifts face. Aw, he’s blushing. Just for him. Drift wants him so bad. It’s so obvious. So what was he doing to Ratchet? No…that was Ratchet…he’ll have to put a stop to that.

“I-I was saying that it was rude to just walk away from Ratchet and First Aid,” Drift really doesn’t like where this is going. He’s seen that look before and he really, REALLY doesn’t like where this is going.

“Nah, it wasn’t rude. We are in charge; I am in charge and I can do what I want and right now,” Rodimus shuts and locks the door behind him, “what I want is you.” He pushes his third in command back against his desk and smashes his lips against Drifts, groping roughly at his panel.

“Mnhrgh...h-hey! No…stop…R-Rodimus…g-get off me!” Drift angrily pushes his captain off of him.

Not taking the hint, Rodimus pushes back into him. “I knew you liked it rough! I dig the hard to get act too, Drift. It suits you. Did you do this for your customers too? Did they pay extra for it?” Rodimus’ engine revs hard, his spike banging into his panel.

The shock and humiliation burn hot through Drifts frame. “W-What? Rodimus…I…I…”

“You need to be a good little third and obey your captain. Don’t you want me to be happy? Look, Drift, I NEED this. If you want, I’ll pay, though, I know you want it just as bad, so you can kinda see where I have an issue with that…although, it would be kinda hot. Mm! Dirty little buymech…I bet you suck spike real good…” Rodimus grinds his panel hard against Drifts.

Drifts face burns red all the way up his finials, anger and shame flooding his systems, his helm hanging in shame. His pedes are rooted to the floor, his hands balled into fists.

“Oh now, hey…none of that…how about a kiss first, just to see if you like it?” Rodimus’ spike throbs hard against his panel as he watches Drift. Oh he’s playing this game, is he? Drift certainly knows just what his captain likes. Rodimus quietly unsubs his energon cuffs and readies himself. He puts a finger under Drifts chin and tilts his face up. “You have really beautiful optics, Drift,” Cue trademark radiantly irresistible grin, “Now, how about that…kiss...” and cue ‘The Move’.

Drift is just about in a panic. He clenches and un-clenches his fists, absolutely terrified. He wants Rodimus’ approval so desperately that he will do just about anything—writing speeches and reading memos anything—not this...definitely not this. “Uh…” Oh please someone burst in the door…please! Someone anyone! Oh Primus he’s gonna—and he does. 

Rodimus smashes his mouth against Drifts, trying to lodge his glossa between Drifts lips while he slaps the stasis cuffs on the swordsmechs wrists.

A horrified look of shock blazes across Drifts face as the cuffs are slapped on, the disgusting oral intrusion already forgotten. “Rodimus! What the hell? Take them off now!”

“Now, now, you don’t speak to your captain in that tone,” Rodimus practically purrs at Drift, his arousal bleeding through all too obviously. Rodimus drags a finger down Drifts cheek and then tweaks his finial. “Have you any idea how hot you are? How super hard, heh heh, it is to keep my hands off of you?” Rodimus presses their bodies together and sucks on Drifts lower lip, his optics fluttering back in his helm. The captain abruptly yanks Drifts arms over his helm, spins him around and bends the red and white mech over his desk. “Sooooo fragging hot! Those curves….mmm…yeah,” Rodimus grinds his hot panel into Drifts backside and runs his hands possessively over his sides digging in hard. He stops on his scabbards and yanks out a sword. Without a second thought, Rodimus drives the sword into his desk, pinning Drifts cuffs and Drift effectively to the desk. “That’ll do nicely! Mmmm mmm....damn, Drift...you are so fragging hot. I have wanted you for a long time. Uhn...Wish I woulda seen you in the gutters. Yeah...that woulda been so hot. Little Drift all dirty and hungry, all needy for his next fix...I woulda bought you all the time, my little addict; my little buymech. Damn....that's so hot...the thought of you curled in a little, cos you are little and that is just so hot on its own, but damn, in a little ball hiding in the gutter, a bunch of mechs transfluid dripping outta your used valve, booster hanging outta your helm, uhn...your tanks growling....oh Primus....uhn...” Rodimus no longer able to hold back, the thought of Drift like that just too much, retracts his panel releasing his super pressurized and straining spike. He takes hold of his spike and rubs it all over Drifts aft and panel.

Anger and hurt; humiliation and shame; feelings Drift knows all too well. Feelings he had thought he left behind a long time ago. He was wrong and for some reason the words coming out of his captains mouth destroy him. They break him. Terribly. There's no way out now so better to just let Rodimus do what he wants, he’s been through much worse and like all the other times, Drift will just wait it out, praying that it will be over soon and that he won’t sustain too much damage. 

“Now what to do with this big one?” Rodimus runs his fingers along the hilt of the Great Sword.

Rage surges up through Drift at the intrusion—the violation of his—Wings Great Sword. Drift growls, his voice dark and deadly; Deadlocks voice. “Do. Not.Touch. The Great Sword.”

“Oooooo! I love that tone, Drift…frag it all, the sword can wait!” Rodimus, now more than ready, excitedly fumbles with the manual release latch to Drifts panel, eventually getting it open. He groans when he sees the valve cover. “Oh well…you Cons like it rough right?” Before Drift can say different, Rodimus slams his spike to hilt inside Drifts dry valve, destroying his valve cover in the process. 

Drift holds in his cry of agony as his valve cover is torn, biting down hard on his lower lip, drawing energon. Tears sting his optics as he presses his forehelm into Rodimus’ desk, his fingers digging into the desk, grabbing for purchase as his valve is relentlessly pounded into. Just hang on; it’ll be over soon, he promises himself. Don’t cry, Drift, not here, not now; don’t let him see your pain. You deserve the pain, Drift. After everything you have done this is the least you deserve. 

Rodimus throws his helm back as he drives into Drifts valve. “Uh…oh yeah yeah, Primus you are so fragging tight! And soooo wet! Oh yeah, uhn…who’s your captain? Yeah that’s right…uhn! Oh I’m so…YES! Oh yeeees! SO close!” He smacks Drifts aft a few times then digs his fingers deep into Drifts hips. Tiny rivulets of energon from Drifts hips and valve make their way down his thighs and pool onto the floor. “That’s it, Drift! Squirm! YEEEES!! UHN!” With a mighty grunt, Rodimus pulls out and coats his third in commands back and aft with his transfluid. 

As if the transfluid all over his back wasn’t bad enough, a few stray threads of the hot, silvery liquid run down the back of Drifts neck, down his cheeks and into his mouth. He spits it out and gasps in pain, which Rodimus, of course assumes is pleasure. 

“Mmmm…good, I’m glad you enjoyed it too! Now you can go.” He pulls Drifts sword out of his desk and sheathes it his scabbards. Rodimus then walks around to the front of his desk and removes the cuffs. “There. Dismissed. When I need you again, I’ll come find you.” Rodimus sits in his chair and puts his pedes on the desk in front of Drifts face.

Drift struggles to get himself off the desk, wincing sharply as he finally stands up. He looks down at the puddle of energon; his energon and cringes. 

“I know, I’m really big,” Rodimus smirks. “You’ll get used to it.”

Drift can only glare as he closes his panel. “D-Do you have a cloth…or a towel?”

“No. And even I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Maybe this way Ratchet will get the hint.”

Drift gives Rodimus one last glare, holding in all his pain, rage and humiliation, and walks out. The minute the door closes behind him, Drift almost drops to his knees in agony. It’s bad, really bad; he can feel it. His valve is torn and leaking bad. His cover is…who knows. All he can think of is getting to the wash racks as quickly as he can. Drift staggers and limps his way down the hall, unaware of the trail of energon he leaves in his wake. As he makes his way down the hall, he hears voices approaching him. Oh no. Why? Why him? Drift straightens up and keeps his helm down, quickly removing his hand from the support of the wall, concentrating as hard as he can on walking, not limping. 

“Oh hey, Drift! Ratchet and I were hoping we’d run into you! We are on our way to Swerves and we were just saying that we would love it if you would come with! Drift…? Are you...alright?... What’s wrong?” First Aid looks the swordsmech over, very concerned. 

“H-Hi, First Aid…Ratchet…” Oh why? Why did it have to be them?! This is so humiliating! Please don’t look at me Ratchet…oh…oh no...They’re gonna know…I must reek of interfacing, Drift silently pleads. “I-I am fine…just…g-gotta go, okay…sorry. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Ratchet fights back a growl as he takes in the swordsmechs appearance. Drift reeks of transfluid, but not overheated circuits, which is unusual for interfacing, unless it was one-sided. Ratchet’s gaze glides down to Drifts crotch and energon stained thighs taking in the energon dripping from around the edges of his panel. “I don’t think so, Drift. You are coming to the medibay with me and Aid right now and that’s an order.” Ratchet cautiously steps closer to him, knowing that he needs to be very careful with Drift right now. 

First Aid follows Ratchets gaze and gasps in shock when he sees the energon leaking from Drift. He looks back to Ratchet, whose optics are locked onto Drift and then back to Drift. “We can help you, Drift. It will be alright, just come with us.” First Aid smiles reassuringly.

Drifts pale optics turn wild and dart between First Aid and Ratchet. He feels trapped, his shame overwhelming him; his humiliation burning through him—all in front of the mech he loves more than anything else in the world. “I-I…” Drift shoves his way through First Aid and Ratchet, stumbling and limping before he pushes past his pain and runs.

“Oh…oh no… I am so sorry, Ratchet. It’s my fault he ran,”

Ratchet sighs heavily and watches Drift run. “No, it’s not, Aid. He was gonna run anyway. I have an idea where he’s going so I’ll go after him. Follow his trail and find out where he came from, though I have an idea and it does not make me happy at all.”

“I think I have an idea as well and I also think we have the answer to our question from earlier. I’ll follow his trail and head back to the medibay. Rain check on Swerves?” 

Ratchet looks back at his apprentice and smiles sadly. “Absolutely. I think we’re gonna be stuck on this planet for a while anyway, judging by the blizzard that just moved in. And speaking of which, where is your mate?” 

First Aid smiles brightly as he thinks about Blurr. “He’s fine, just enjoying himself running. Though I do worry about that leg of his…actually, he should be back any time now,” 

As if on cue, Blasters voice booms over the ships PA system and comm frequency: “Hey all you crazy cats the Lost Light is land locked until further notice due to an intense blizzard a ragin outside! Way I figure, we were all due for an extended vacation as it is! Captains orders that everyone stay in and if you’re out, come on back!” Ratchet snorts at Blaster and looks off in the direction Drift went. 

First Aid follows Ratchets gaze and frowns. “Go after him, Ratch. I’ll catch up with you later…go fix your mech.”

Ratchet turns and glares at his apprentice before setting off after Drift, muttering under his breath. “Not my mech…no one wants this old medic…”

 

****

 

Blurr sits surrounded by his own energon, shivering terribly, his plating rattling, and denta clattering together as he desperately tries to reach First Aid. His leg snapped mid-run at top speed sending him careening down an embankment into a ravine. His leg struts stick out at horrible angles, the leg only remaining attached by a few wires and one cable at his knee. Energon slowly pumps out of the torn lines. Blurr is in bad shape and he knows it. He can feel the cold seeping into his lines; sneaking under his plating. He runs hot when his systems are functioning normally and very hot when he runs, but afterwards his core temperature drops. When his systems slow down he gets cold; extremely cold. Frag, he even recharges under a TON of blankets every night and still he curls into Aid for warmth, he practically crawls under Aids plating for his warmth and now here he is, broken and freezing cold, snow piling up around him and no longer melting off him and he can’t reach Aid and oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no! “AIIIIIIIIID!!!” Blurr sobs for his mate. He hates being in pain; he hates being cold and he’s scared. 

“Well, well what do we have here? A broken Autobot crying?”

Blurr looks up slowly, gasping as he stares into red optics. “You…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too long, not to short. Fluffy comfort. Cliffhanger....ummm.....very sweet...syrup sweet...terrible use of apostrophes...probably very OOC, but I like the schmoopy, so there. *sticks out tongue and runs away* Forgive the mistakes and enjoy! XD

Drift finally makes it to the wash racks, locking the door behind him. He leans heavily against the door, intakes heaving, engine revving hard in distress; really wishing Ratchet hadn’t have seen him like that. His knees shake and wobble as he pushes away from the door and over to the stall. Drift unclips his hip scabbards and sets them down gently on a bench next to the racks. Shakily he reaches behind and removes his Great Sword and with greater care places it alongside his short swords. The swordsmech sways as he attempts to stabilize himself in the stall and turns the mix of cleanser and water on. He leans his forehelm against the wall and cranks the temperature until it’s scalding hot; barely noticing the painful sting against his plating as his processor constantly replays the past few hours. Drift braces himself and opens his panel; the metal crunching and grating, pieces of his valve cover pinging as they fall to the stall floor along with his energon. He stares down at the broken pieces of his valve cover as his energon runs down the drain and starts to sob. 

******

 

Ratchet makes his way to the wash racks, knowing full well what happened to Drift, as he’s seen it many times in his Dead End clinic. He’s fixed Drift countless times as well. What’s different this time is the knot in his spark; the way it flipped and just about guttered as he took in Drifts condition. Drift was frightened…broke and hurt badly. And it tore. Ratchet. Apart. Why all of a sudden is he feeling like this? Why does he feel the need to cradle Drift in his arms and cuddle him, cooing and promising to take his pain away, to keep Drift safe? Why? Part of him wants to fight these feelings; another part wants him to embrace it fully. What a mess…and when he gets confirmation that it’s Rodimus who is doing this to Drift, he’s gonna kill him…

*******

 

Drift sobs and scrubs his frame relentlessly; his paint and even the metal coming off. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and sobs and sobs and scrubs some more. Drift digs into the area around his valve, scrubbing even harder, steam billowing around him and out through the bottom of the door. 

Ratchet approaches the door to the wash racks and sees the steam pouring out of the gap between the door and floor. He sighs heavily and tries to open the door. Oh Drift. The CMO uses his medical override and opens the door. Steam empties out into the hallway as Ratchet waves his hand in front of him to disperse the cloud of steam. He shuts and locks the door, putting it in his code so that no one can open the door. Not even Rodimus. Not even First Aid. Not even Magnus. 

“Drift? It’s me, Ratchet. I’m coming over to you,” Ratchet slowly, cautiously walks over to Drift. He holds in the gasp when he sees him: energon trickling down his legs, pieces of his valve cover on the drain, his paint scratched off, sobbing as he scrubs way too hard. Oh Drift. Ratchet very carefully approaches the tormented, shaking mech and reaches in front of him to turn the water off. “It’s okay, Drift. It’s alright…I’m here.”

Drift shivers and shakes; his intakes hiccupping, his engines idling very high in extreme distress. He flinches as Ratchets arm extends in front of him to shut off the cleanser/water mix. “Guh…go away…p-please…nuh…not worth it…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Drift. You need medical attention and you ARE worth it. Please let me help you,” Ratchet steps closer.

Drift shakes his helm, clenching the sponge tightly in his fist, fumbling to latch his panel with his other. He can’t manage it with the way his hand is shaking, his mortification further increasing. Drift attempts to turn and walk away, but his legs give way.

Ratchet’s spark shatters as he watches Drift, unable to stand by and watch him suffer any longer. Just as Ratchet is about to make a grab for Drift, Drifts legs give out and he starts to fall and Ratchet makes sure it is right into his arms. The medic holds Drifts’ terribly shaking frame to his, placing his one hand behind the much smaller mechs helm, whispering into his audial. “Please, little one let me help you. I locked the door so that NO ONE will get in. It’s just you and me. Just like in Rodion. Okay?” Ratchet holds Drift close, filling his EMF with comfort and security.

Drift weakly tries to break free from Ratchet, but due to loss of energon and the fact that those arms feel so very, VERY good around him he allows Ratchet to hold him and nods. 

“Good boy,” Ratchet gently kisses Drifts helm, sliding one arm under Drifts knees, holding him securely around his back with the other, scoops him up and walks over to a large bench; grabbing a few towels on his way. He sits down with Drift cradled in his arms. “Is this okay, Drift?”

Drift shivers and nods, his engine revs and sobbing slowly calming down.

Ratchet offers a soft smile. “Very good. May I dry you off, please?”

The swordsmech nods weakly and leans his helm into Ratchet’s chest.

Ratchet smiles again. “Thank you. You’re doing so well, Drift. I’m very proud of you,” Ratchet tries as hard as he can to keep from bursting into tears, feeling the energon leaking from Drifts valve onto his lap. He knows he must be careful with his care of Drift. He is so fragile and the wrong move could set him off. He hates having to wait before he can repair him; the poor kid has lost too much energon as it is.

Drift leans against Ratchets chest, shivering, as the CMO gently dries him off. His touch and tone are so gentle, that Drift soon finds himself relaxing a little.

Ratchet can feel some of the tension leaving Drifts frame as he dries him off and smiles to himself. “That’s it Drift, just relax. I know you’re cold, so I will hurry. I need to finish drying you off, but I have to lay you down to do so, alright? And I would like very much to repair you. I can ease your pain. I know you know that you need to be repaired, so may I? Please?”

The tension that had left Drift returns, but he knows Ratchet is right, so he gives his assent in the form of a weak and shaky nod.

Ratchet smiles and very gently lays him down on the bench. Drifts hands ball up into fists and his arms cross over his chest defensively; his fists drawn to his chin and his helm tucked into his fists; the poor mech trembling in fear. “It’s alright, Drift. I would never hurt you,” Ratchet carefully dries off his legs, gently patting the nasty holes in his hips. “I’m going to start with your hips, alright?” Drift looks down at him with pale, pained optics and nods. Ratchet’s spark breaks as he smiles up at him. Ratchet examines the wounds closely and begins to repair his hips. The damage there isn’t too bad, thankfully, but still…

Drift’s optics never leave Ratchet as he works, Drift mentally reprimanding himself because he really does trust Ratchet. He watches him finish up, tensing up severely knowing what’s next. Panic and shame flood his field as he closes his optics and shakes. 

“Aw, Drift…it’s gonna be alright, I promise. Please try and relax…for your own good. You know I would never hurt you,” Ratchet coos and gently rubs Drifts belly. 

Drift nods, trying so very hard to relax. “I-I…k-know…I-I…I’m s-sorry…I trust you, I really do…I just…” A few stray tears run down his cheeks.

Continuing with the belly rubs, Ratchet brushes his EMF against Drifts pulsing comfort and security through it. “I have to spread your legs, Drift, okay? Ready?” A tiny nod, and very minute whimper from the swordsmech. Ratchet very tenderly spreads Drifts legs, holding back a curse; beginning the painstaking task of repairing his abused valve. To his credit Drift remains perfectly still; aside from moving his balled fists to cover his face. After a couple hours, Ratchet finishes up. “I will have to rebuild you valve cover, but that will only take a couple days. In the meantime, I have used soft mesh bandages and padding to act as a cover. You’re gonna be extremely sore and I really want you to stay off your pedes. You need to heal. I also need to get energon into your systems,” Ratchet closes the white mechs legs and moves to sit by his helm. He gently pulls back on Drifts fists. “Ya listening ta me, kid?”

Drift slowly opens his very wet optics and looks up at the mech he loves. “Please…I…I don’t wanna go in the medibay…” Cause then Rodimus can get to me. It’s not safe. I don’t wanna get hurt again. Drift struggles to sit up, wincing in pain.

The medic sighs heavily and pulls Drift into his arms; holding him and gently rubbing his back. “Very well then; no medibay. You will stay in my hab suite instead where I can keep an optic on you. No one will bother you and I can take care of you, because I know damn slagging well you will not do it yourself. No arguments, Drift. Clear?”

Drift sighs, secretly relieved, albeit a little embarrassed. “C-Crystal.” 

“Good. Shall we?” Ratchet tenderly picks up Drift and cradles him in arms once again.

“Ratch…” Drift groans and whines, trying to hide his wince of pain at being moved. “I can walk, you know…”

“And I don’t want you putting any stress on that area. Besides, it’s late enough that no one should be roaming about and if they are, ya had too much engex. Now quit complaining and let me do my job.” Ratchet smirks and carries him to the door, picking up Drifts swords and handing them to him on the way which grants Ratchet an appreciative smile from the swordsmech, before entering his code and walking out into the hall.

Drift shivers terribly and nuzzles into Ratchet looking for warmth. “Why…am I-I s-so c-cold?”

Ratchet vents warm air over the shivering mech in his arms as he continues to his hab suite. “Because your frame has been through a trauma and because you run on the cool side anyway. I’ll get you nice and warm once we get back to my suite, okay?”

“Ok-kay…” Drift closes his optics and leans against Ratchet as they make their way back to Ratchets’ hab suite. True to his word, they encountered no one.

Ratchet’s hab suite is attached to the medibay and can be entered from the hall or the medibay, and true to his word yet again, they go through the hall entrance; not the medibay. Ratchet gives a silent command to the door to lock securely behind him and carefully lays Drift on his berth. He takes the swords out of Drifts grasp and gently sets them on his desk. Drift looks up at him with pained, tired optics and shivers. Ratchet smiles softly and pulls up his blanket, covering Drift up to his neck. “I will be right back, okay?” 

“Where are you going?” Drift shivers again, unable to help that any more than the surge of panic that slips through into his field.

“Just into the medibay to get another blanket, energon and nutrient drip. You need them. I am also going to let Aid know you are here and find out if he heard from Blurr.”

“Blurr?! What happened to Blurr? We should go looking for him!” Drift tries to sit up only to be gently pushed back by the CMO.

“‘We’ are not going to do anything. YOU are going to lay back and rest and I am going to take care of it. Understood?”

Drift pouts and scowls, a difficult look to pull off, but one he does expertly. “Fine…but…y-you’ll keep me posted?”

Ratchet smiles. Always thinking of others first. “Yes. But you must promise me that you will rest. I’m very serious, Drift.”

“I will. You have my word. What? You do!”

Ratchet narrows his optics, “Swear to me. No sneaking out when I fall I asleep. You’ll listen and stay in the berth.”

Drift holds his gaze and solemnly answers Ratchet. “I swear on …Wing.”

Ratchet stares back, holding the swordsmech gaze as well. Oh, Drift. “…Alright then.”

Drift turns on his side, wincing horribly, a small whimper of pain escaping his vocalizer, as he nestles under the blankets; another shiver assaulting his exhausted frame.

Again, Ratchets’ spark breaks; unable to withstand seeing him in pain. “I’ll be right back. Promise.” He comfortingly rubs Drifts back before heading out into the medibay.

Drift watches Ratchet leave and closes his optics.

***

First Aid stops his frantic pacing and rushes over to Ratchet the minute he exits his hab suite. “Ratchet! Oh, Ratchet! I c-can’t get a hold of Blurr! He hasn’t come back and no one has seen him in HOURS! What am I gonna do!! It’s snowing like crazy out there and you know how cold he gets when he’s done overheating and it’s freezing out there and—“ 

“Whoa! Easy, Aid…slow down, ya sound just like Blurr. I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably on his way back now. I’m sure he just got distracted and is enjoying himself in the snow,” Ratchet grabs a nutrient pack and energon bag from the closet, then heads to another closet to grab a couple thermal blankets. “Don’t worry so much. You know how he is.” 

First Aid darts around his mentor watching him carefully and discounting his theory. “Ratch, I can’t feel him. The last thing I felt was fear before it slammed shut,” First Aid cants his helm and follows Ratchet as he grabs the blankets and heads for his hab suite, “What are you doing? Is that for Drift? Drift! Oh! What happened?”

Ratchet stops in front of his door. “Yes. This is for Drift. He is hurt bad and doesn’t want anyone to know. He wants to feel safe and I don't trust him to take proper care of himself, so I am having him recover in my suite. Don’t you give me that look, Aid,” 

First Aid practically bubbles over with joy. “How romantic!”

Ratchet sighs and shakes his helm. “There is nothing romantic about this at all and you’re nuts; now, quiet.” Ratchet opens the door, allowing First Aid to come with him. 

Drift opens his optics halfway and looks at the pair as they enter. “Blurr?”

“I’m going to help Aid with that as soon as I get you settled.” Ratchet sets the blankets down and hooks up the energon infusion with the nutrient pack. 

First Aid smiles under his mask at the care Drift shows for his mate and fluffs the blanket before covering it over Drift. “Thank you for your concern, Drift. I haven’t heard from him, I can’t reach him and I can’t…f-feel him, so I am worried.”

“He’ll be okay…B-Blue is…t-tougher than he looks…and acts,” Drift smiles tiredly up at First Aid, watching as he unfolds the other blanket and covers him again. “Mmm…s’nice…” He closes his optics again, his fatigued systems shutting down for recharge.

First Aid gently squeezes Drifts shoulder, speaking softly, “Thank you, Drift.”

“I’ll be back later, Drift. Rest. You’ll be safe and Aid and I will be right outside.” Ratchet shuts off the lights and heads out with First Aid; closing the door behind him.

“Can you feel anything? Perhaps a location? Anything at all?” Ratchet leans back against an empty berth, concern for both Blurr and First Aid filling his EMF.

“No…nothing…it’s dark, Ratch…” Ratchets apprentice wrings his hands in nervous frustration, panic threatening to overwhelm again. “Ratch, he’s my Conjunx! I love him more than anything and I can’t lose him! I just can’t!!” First Aid wails and collapses into the CMO.

“Aw, Aid…” Ratchet holds First Aid and rubs his back, pulsing comfort through his EMF. Ratchet lets First Aid sob into his chest, doing his best to console him when the doors to the medibay burst open.

“Got a live one here! Well, not for much longer and he’s actually more cold than live, and he’s blue too! But not from the cold, which I think is surprising…and this is now the second time I’ve saved him so he owes ME now!” 

“BLURR?!” First Aid exclaims, breaking away from the embrace, his spark racing probably faster than Blurr’s ever has.

Ratchet stands in shock at the scene in front of him, “SWINDLE?!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short...my apologies....I am working on chapter 5 as I post this so hopefully I can get that one up later today or Monday at the latest. Sorry for the long update! I hope this makes up for it. :P

“Give me him!” Ratchet just about snatches Blurr away from Swindle and lays the frigid blue mech on a mediberth. “By the vaulted heights of—he’s slagging cold!”

“Well of course he’s cold! I found him broken, cryin’ and covered in snow! Not to mention I had to WALK back here with him! In the cold and snow and ice! And you guys should be grateful…that’s all I’m saying,” Swindle holds his hands up and backs away. “Lemme know when ya fix him. Later, boys!” With a snicker and a wave, Swindle exist the medibay and heads to where else but Swerve’s.

“OH BLURR! My poor little racer! Is he alright? Oh Ratchet…his leg! Oh dear oh dear oh dear his leeeeeg!” First Aid is in a panic. He rushes to his Conjunx’s side, his hands hovering above his frame, afraid to touch; afraid not to touch.

“Aid, you need to listen to me right now. I need two bags of energon, 600cc’s of Diatherma and several thermal blankets. Stat.” Ratchet hopes that getting his apprentice to focus on something other than his mate will help calm him. He looks over Blurr, pulling out his scanner and checking for internal injuries; finding none, he starts to clamp off the lines in Blurr’s right leg, stopping the leaking. He then cuts the shredded wires and prepares them to be soldered. Of course the lunatic Smurf had to snap his leg in the worst possible way. He probably did it just to piss Ratchet off and spend more time in the medibay with Aid. The CMO growls and removes Blurr’s leg at the knee joint taking the damaged pieces along with the non-damaged pieces because the slagging pain-in-the-aft-racer has to be special! Can’t fabricate any part of Blurr’s unique frame, oh no no no…have to be welded by hand! Slaggin racers…

After a few more curses and growls from Ratchet, First Aid returns with everything and sets about hooking Blurr up to the energon and Diatherma; special heavy weight oil designed to generate warmth for when mechs are exposed to the cold for too long. And Blurr being cold is really not a good thing. Not at all. He runs very cold when his systems are shut down and after racing around all his energy goes to EXPELLING the heat to cool his overheating turbines and frame, so compile that with snow and injury…it leads to really bad things…really, really bad things and- 

“Aid! Are you paying attention?”

“Y-Yes?” First nervously looks from Blurr to Ratchet, trying to remember what Ratchet was saying.

“Slaggit all, Aid, he’s gonna be fine…which I was TRYING to tell you. His leg will need to be repaired by hand, which you will have the honor doing and he’ll have to be-“

Blurr’s optics pop open as the first thing he hears is leg and repair. Then the pain hits. “OW OW OW OW OW my leg my leg my leg my leg cold cold cold Aid Aid Aid Aid Aid what happened my leg my leg pain pain pain AIIIIID!!”

“Easy, love. Please you need to calm down. I am right here and you are fine; you’re safe,” First Aid retracts his mask and gives his mate a soft smile, lovingly stroking his helm fins.

Blurr pouts and whimpers, shivering, leaning into his Conjunx’s touches. “Hurts…”

"I know love, I know. It will be alright," First Aid coos.

Ratchet rolls his optics, a habit he’s seemed to pick up recently, of which he blames on those around him. If they weren’t all so slagging…oh well. “Blurr, I’m gonna give you a heavy duty sedative; you need to rest, give your systems time to regenerate heat and for your self-repair to work,”

Blurr groans in pain and closes his optics, still shivering. Primus he feels so cold! “Better make sure it’s strong…gonna have to give me a bunch…they d-don’t last long-“

Again, Ratchet rolls his optics. What is it with everyone trying to tell him how to do his job today? “I am WELL aware of that, Blurr. I know your super-fast,” too mocking? Frag it. He doesn’t care. He’s tired and his damn spark and processor keep slithering their way back to Drift, “and that your systems super process everything. That’s why Aid is gonna be right by your side monitoring you.” Ratchet injects the sedative into Blurr’s energon drip before he finishes his sentence.

First Aid continues with the rubs and kisses Blurr’s forehelm; covering his beautiful racer with the thermal blankets and tucking him. “Ratchet’s right, dear. I will be right here the whole time,” 

Blurr shivers again as he’s covered and starts to drift off as the sedative works through his systems. “My…l-leg…”

“Your leg will be fine, my Little Racer. I am going to repair it while I sit with you. Now rest,” First Aid kisses his racers forehelm one more time as Blurr nods and finally falls into a heavy, sedative induced recharge.   
First Aid sits beside Blurr and begins the delicate and tedious art of rebuilding his leg. Wow! Blurr’s leg struts snapped brutally; the damage twisting his struts down to his already weak ankle and blowing the pistons out. First Aid shakes his helm, his spark breaking thinking of how much pain his mate was in. 

“He’s okay, Aid,” Ratchet puts a comforting hand on his apprentice’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.

“I…I know. Thank you, Ratch. It’s just…this damage is bad. I think his leg has been bothering him more than he let on…”

“That doesn’t surprise me. That’s why he has you, kid,” Ratchet squeezes Aid’s shoulder again and then turns to head back to his hab suite. He pauses for a moment and looks back at First Aid. “You gonna be okay, Aid?”

First Aid turns slightly in his chair, just so that Ratchet can see enough him as smiles, before closing his face mask. “Yeah, I’m okay now that I know Blurr is. Go take care of your mech, boss,”

Ratchet rolls his optics yet AGAIN. “For the last time he is-“

First Aid laughs. “Yeah, yeah…I know, he’s not your mech. Whatever you say, Ratch..whatever you say. Oh, and Ratch?”

Ratchet scowls at his apprentice. “Yes, First Aid?”

“I followed Drift’s trail of energon,”

“And?” The CMO’s optics darken, waiting for the answer.

First Aid slumps a little in his chair, frowning behind his mask. “They stopped before I turned to go down the command officers’ corridor,”

Ratchet growls and clenches his fists. “Figures. Proof with no proof,”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No. And he won’t,”

First Aid cants his helm and sighs. “How bad?”

“Bad, Aid. Very bad. He needs to stay off his pedes for a few days,”

“Poor Drift. He doesn’t deserve that. Good thing he has you to take care of him,” First Aid can’t help but add the last part with a hint of humor and a smirk that makes its way through his vocalizer.

Ratchet rolls his optics yet again and turns around finally entering his hab suite.

First Aid turns around and laughs continuing his repairs on Blurr’s leg.


	5. Chapter 5

Drift is pinned down; legs spread wide open as Turmoil slams relentlessly into him. He snarls and bites, scratches and claws all to no avail; Turmoil is a hulking mass of mech damn near close to ten times his size. 

Ratchet enters his hab suite and stops in his tracks as he stares at Drift, who is whimpering and twitching, EMF filling the room with pain and raw terror, trapped in some private hell. Ratchet doesn’t know if it’s a dream or a memory flux or what, but if Drift keeps it up he’s liable to hurt himself. At least that’s what Ratchet keeps telling himself to explain why his spark is wrenching at seeing the swordsmech in such terrible misery.

“N-No…please…no more…stop…” Drift shivers and mewls, lost in a memory, his engine revving distressfully as he clutches at the blanket, curled in a little ball.

Oh Drift. Ratchet rushes over to the tormented mechs side. “Drift…hey…it’s me, Ratchet….you’re safe…wake up,” Ratchet brushes his EMF into Drifts, filling it with comfort and security as he rubs the white mechs back. “It’s alright, Drift. It’s okay,”

Drift flinches at the touch before starting to wake up, the calm and safety of the proffered field mixing with his helping to bring him back to the present. “…R-Ratch?” He starts to shudder and shiver uncontrollably.

Ratchet continues to rub Drifts back, pulling up the blankets as he adjusts further into the berth, so that he is now lying beside Drift, half propped up against the wall. Ratchet pulls the trembling, frightened mech closer and wraps his arms tight around him; Drifts helm resting on his chest. Ratchet can feel the tension rise and fall in Drift; slowly ebbing away. “I’m here. You’re safe. No harm will come to you here, Drift,”

Drift really does love those strong arms around him. Being nestled against Ratchet really does feel oh so nice. As the tension slowly leaves his frame, he snuggles up against Ratchet more, nuzzling his helm into the larger mechs chest. Drift tentatively lays his arm over Ratchet’s belly, pretending just for the moment, that Ratchet actually requites his feelings. Feelings that he hasn’t admitted to Ratchet just yet. Should he tell him now? He could, but what if it scares Ratchet away? Better to just pretend. Ratchet wouldn’t want him anyway. 

Ratchet’s spark positively flutters as Drift snuggles against him and nuzzles his helm into his chest. He is unable to help the small smile that snakes it way onto his lips and tightens his embrace around the white and red mech. When Drift drapes his arm over his belly, Ratchet feels warmth spread all over his frame and a deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Good. Get comfortable…rest, Drift,” Did that sound lame? That sounded lame…’Get comfortable?’ What was that? Why does he care? He shouldn’t care. It’s Drift. And that’s exactly why he does care, BECAUSE it is Drift. Does Drift like him? No no…he couldn’t. He’s old. No way would Drift be interested. He’s a grumpy, old mech and Drift is...well Drift. Gorgeous. Young. Gorgeous? Aw slag…this is bad. He needs to recharge. Wait…WOULD… is Drift interested? Ratchet looks down at Drift, who then turns and looks back at him. Drift looks up at him with those big, blue, innocent optics of his and Ratchet’s spark just melts.

Drift gazes into Ratchet’s optics and smiles a lazy, sated smile. Ratchet is really handsome. He makes Drift’s spark race. “Y-You don’t mind? I…I’m not hurting you? Cos I could move…if…if you want…?”

Ratchet smiles back at Drift and pulls him closer. “I don’t mind at all and you’re not hurting me...don’t need to move...I…like you right where you are.” Ratchet internally winces at his words, surprised that they left his mouth. 

Drift feels his face blush and spark leap with joy. He smiles again and closes his optics, curling tighter into Ratchet. “Good…cos I like it… right here…with you, Ratch.” 

Again with the fluttering spark! Ratchet smiles and kisses the top of Drift’s helm leaning his cheek against where he kissed, “I like it too, Drift.” He kisses the white mechs helm again. “Ya wanna tell me what got you so upset?” Ratchet soothingly rubs Drift’s back, hoping that the swordsmech feels safe enough to open up.

It takes a moment for Drift to answer, venting softly instead as he thinks of what to say, a shudder racking his frame as he finally speaks. “Bad memory…Turmoil.” 

Anger wells up from the very depths of Ratchet’s spark at the mere thought of someone else causing his Drift such agony. His Drift? Oh this is getting worse. Since when is he thinking of Drift as his? He holds Drift as close as he can; shielding the smaller mech from the world. Ratchet knew that Drift was Turmoil’s second, but he had always thought it was position Drift enjoyed having; not one that caused him such utter agony. 

“Guess I don’t do well in positions of authority, huh? Can’t seem to handle what they entail…” Drift shivers and buries his face in Ratchet’s chest. “When do you suppose the torture starts?”

“Oh Drift…” Ratchet spark breaks as he realizes just what Drift means...what second and third in command mean to him: Pain, being taken against your will-raped, humiliated and tortured. Just what HASN’T been done to this poor, tormented, kind spark? Love, that’s what. Love and kindness. Drift has never been cared for…nurtured. It’s always the same for him. Well, Ratchet snorts, that stops now. 

Drift removes his face from the safety of Ratchet’s chest when hears him snort. He looks up at his medic with wet optics, asking as if almost scared of the answer, “What?”

Ratchet cups Drift’s face between his hands, a very serious expression on his face. “Drift, you listen to me right now and you listen well. I will never let anything bad happen to you again. I will never allow you to be hurt in any way EVER again. You deserve love and kindness and happiness. This endless cycle of abuse and pain you have suffered and keep suffering with ends right here, right now,”

Tears slide down Drifts’ cheeks as he listens to Ratchet’s solemn vow. Words he wanted to hear so many times from anyone. All he ever wanted was someone to care. He had that with Gasket but it all got taken away. He could have had it with Wing, but it was taken away. Perceptor couldn’t give it. And now Ratchet. Someone Drift cares for so much. Someone he has known for longer than the rest. Someone that being with just feels so RIGHT. Someone he loves. “R-Ratch…I lo-“

Just as Drift is about to confess, First Aid interrupts via the rooms internal comm system. “Ratchet? I’m sorry to bother you…but we have incoming casualties. Brainstorm’s current project exploded…again. Nothing major, but well…more than I can handle alone…”

Of all the lousy timing! Ratchet curses out loud and answers First Aid. “Be right there, Aid,” He looks into those beautiful optics and wipes Drift’s tears away with his thumbs. Ratchet now knows how Drift feels, despite the horrible interruption and he can now admit how he feels to himself, if not to the mech before him. Slaggit all he loves Drift! Always has. Everything makes sense now that Ratchet has stopped denying it! The CMO smiles lovingly and kisses the center of Drift’s forehelm. “Hold that thought, Drift. I’m sorry that I have to go. I will be back. In the meantime, rest. Please.”

Drift smiles softly back, nods and closes his optics as Ratchet gently lays him down and covers him back up. “It’s okay, Ratch. I’m not going anywhere,” Drift watches Ratchet head back out and settles down in the warm spot where Ratchet just was, a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delays continue for Ratchet and Drift...Swerve finds out Blurr is on board...drunken bots and a busy medibay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been extremely hectic to say the least...I will update as soon as I can. I'm working on Chapter 7 as I add this chappy. I apologize for errors...thank you once again to Wing!!! Love ya!!! Enjoy! .....PS....as always comments are welcome!

Ratchet reluctantly trades the warm embrace of Drift for the cold reality of a busy medibay. And busy it was. “What the hell? Did Brainstorm’s…uh...whatever he calls it, explode in Swerve’s?” 

First Aid chuckles darkly, his hands buried in a very inebriated Skids’ leg. “Actually, yes, and you…oh dammit! I interrupted, didn’t I? I really am sorry, really really sorry, but Ambulon is off duty...and well...”

Ratchet shutters his optics and glares at First Aid as he heads over to his apprentice, Rung and Skids. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” 

“Uh huh…something happened! I can tell! You have a spring in your step! And…are you…you ARE! You’re blushing! What happened?! Oh please, Ratch, tell me!”

Ratchet approaches Rung and shakes his helm as he looks over the psychiatrist’s upper arm and shoulder, the mere mention of Drift causing Ratchet to blush VERY red; no matter how hard he tries to deny it.  
Rung winces slightly, paying very close attention to the drama unfolding before him. The psychiatrist smiles as he takes in the CMO’s expression. “If I were to guess, Ratchet, I’d say First Aid is making reference to Drift. It is after all, quite noticeable you know, the mutual attraction between you two. It is blatantly obvious how you both feel, you know. Not to mention the fact that keeping these feelings hidden is detrimental to your health and well-being. Have you progressed any further in your attempts at woo-OW! What…what was that for?” Rung flinches and yelps as Ratchet pinches a wire in his shoulder.

The CMO snorts and smirks at the reaction he pulled, or rather yanked from Rung. “There is no attempt at woo and I fail to see how the state of my love life has made its way into my medibay and has any bearing whatsoever on repairing you drunk idiots,”

First Aid almost squeals as he latches on to Ratchet’s slip. “Love life, hmmmmmm? Ha! I KNEW it!!! Oh, Ratch, that’s wonderful!!!”

Before Ratchet has a chance to defend himself, Swerve bursts into the medibay sputtering excitedly, arms flailing about.

“Where is he? Is he alright? I can’t believe Blurr, my bestest buddy Blurr is here on the ship and not one of you told me?! And the worst is how long he’s been here! Right under my nose! All this time!! Guys! No fair! Where is he? Is he hurt? Where is he?! Blurr! Oi! There!” Swerve knocks over a tray of tools on his rushed way over to Blurr’s berth only to be stopped in his forward progress by First Aid’s outstretched leg. 

“Hey! What gives!” 

“Swerve, you will leave MY mate alone. My Conjunx is finally in a much needed recharge. He needs to heal. And we didn’t tell you because MY Conjunx does not need to be harassed by obsessed fans,” If only his glare could penetrate his visor... Just what First Aid needs: an obsessed Swerve vying for Blurr’s attentions.

Oblivious as ever the mini-bot beams up at First Aid, ever so eager to get to Blurr. His Blurr. Swerve’s Blurr! And where is his Blurr?! On. The. LOST LIGHT! Oh this is so awesome! All the things he gets to tell Blurr that he never could! Finally uninterrupted time with Blurr! Fabulous, beautiful, sexy, perfect, tall, handsome, BLUE, BLURR!!! Blurr, Blurr, Blurr, Blurr! Oh happy day! This is the happiest of days EVER!!! The quest of all quests led him to Blurr!!!

“Swerve? Are you listening to me?! Get away from him! He needs to rest!” If bristling while attempting to remain calm was an art form, First Aid would have it perfected.

Finishing up with Rung, Ratchet lifts himself up with another roll of his optics and gets to Swerve in four quick strides. He picks the bar keep up and deposits him outside the medibay. “Unless you are injured, which you are NOT, shoo; good night, Swerve!” 

Swerve looks as if he’s about to launch into a tremendously long rebuttal, when Rung gets up and rushes over, swiftly interrupting and steering the love stricken former metallurgist out of the medibay, waving his thanks to Ratchet on the way.

All Ratchet wants is to climb into his berth and pull that gorgeous sword swinging pain in his aft, in his arms and recharge. Fraggin’ constant interruptions! Aid can handle all this, right? He surveys the medibay and with a resigned huff Ratchet knows he can’t leave his friend to all of this and immediately regrets giving Ambulon the night off. Never again...never ever again. Is it too much to ask to get ONE lousy night to himself-and Drift...

“Thank you, Ratchet. I—“ First Aid’s visor glows brightly, as he finishes up with Skids, shrugging, at a loss for words.

Ratchet chuckles as he heads over to Trailbreaker and begins to weld a metal patch on the force field generators upper arm. “It’s fine, Aid…the last thing Blurr needed was Swerve all up his blue aft,” 

“Still though…i-is it…is it wrong to NOT want Swerve around him? I mean, it’s not like I’m j-jealous or anything…but…well…”

Ratchet can’t help but laugh a little, “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve seen how Blurr looks at you and there is no way your Smurf has optics for anyone else,”

First Aid smiles softly under his mask, the smile evident in his voice though, “Thanks, Ratchet,”

“Smurf! A ha ha ha ha ! That’s good! Wait, what’s a Smurf?” Skids tilts his helm and looks curiously at the two medics.

“It’s an Earth thing, Skids. Tiny, blue creatures,” First Aid chuckles and helps the theoretician off the berth.

“Ooooh…okay. Thanks. I’ll go ask Sunstreaker then,” Skids wavers a bit as he stands, none too gracefully keeping his balance.

“Unless you wanna be back here missing limbs, I suggest you go ask Rewind instead. He should have footage for you,” 

Skids looks questioningly at the CMO until understanding finally sinks into his inebriated processor. “Oh yeaaaaaaaah…that’s right. Uh, yeah…I’m gonna go ask Rewind. Thanks guys!” 

“Who’s next?” Ratchet exclaims, dismissing Trailbreaker and shaking his helm as he watches the swaying form of Skids depart the medibay. Quicker he gets this done, the sooner he’s back with Drift.

“That would be him,” Ultra Magnus walks in half dragging, half pulling a very uncooperative and very drunk Rodimus.

“Ugh! Mags, look, I tolds ya I’m fine. It’s only a scratch!” Rodimus hiccups and grins ridiculously up at the bigger mech. 

Why him? Rodimus should be Drift’s burden to bear; not his. Where is their illustrious third in command, anyway? “Where is Drift? I have reports that I should be reading. I should not be botsitting our drunk captain. That is Drift’s job, so where is he hiding?” This is exactly why Ultra Magnus doesn’t drink and exactly why Swerve’s should be closed down. Permanently. Ultra Magnus turns his attention back to Rodimus and speaks softer, straining to keep the aggravation out of his vocalizer. “Rodimus, your back armor has been gashed open and you are leaking. If you were not so DRUNK, you would feel it and would be running here yourself,” With an exasperated vent, Ultra Magnus directs Rodimus to Ratchet.

Before a growling Ratchet can open his mouth to answer Ultra Magnus, First Aid jumps to attention, exchanging a worried glance with the CMO, who looks as if repairing Rodimus is the last thing on his mind and that throttling the captain is a far more pleasing idea. “I’ll take him, Ultra Magnus, and Drift is on berth rest. He will be off duty for the next few cycles, sir.”

Ultra Magnus notices the look and Ratchet’s demeanor, but doesn’t comment on it as he steers his captain to First Aid. “Berth rest, huh, very well then, thank you, First Aid.” He turns on his heel and leaves; glad to be rid of the medibay and the drunken populous. 

Ratchet snorts and heads over to a passed out Smokescreen, while First Aid begins repairs none too gently on Rodimus, a smirk plastered on his face under his mask.

Rodimus, far too drunk to notice as the not-so-delicate-repairs continue to his back plating, glares hotly at Ratchet. “Berth rest? BERTH REST!? What the hell for?! My Drift has a j-juh…job to do. And YOU--Ratch—really need to stay away from him,” Yeah, that’s right, Drift is MINE. Not yours. 

Finishing up with Smokescreen’s minor injuries, Ratchet turns to meet his captain’s glare with a menacing one of his own. “Yes, berth rest and I think we all know what for. And I will most definitely NOT stay away from MY patient!” 

“YOU will do what I say, Ratchet! This…this is m-my ship and what I say is law! Got that? Law. L. A. W. Luh-ah-aw! Law. And if he needs berth rest from a really good frag, and I do mean really, REALLY good frag, so..uh..yeah...well than he is just…just…well there’s just no need for it! He should be used to it, after all,” Rodimus hiccups and chuckles; finding himself quite humorous despite the two silent medics. 

First Aid is speechless and almost—ALMOST yanks out a cluster of wires from Rodimus’ back. And Ratchet is gonna be...oh no...

Ratchet stiffens, plating clamped down tight, EMF pulled in equally as tight, rippling with rage as he starts to stand. “EXCUSE me—“

“R-Ratch? I-Is everything alright? I heard yelling and well, it’s been awhile…” Exhaustion and pain is heavily obvious in Drift’s vocalizer as he speaks from Ratchet’s half open door, which happens to be supporting the majority of the swordsmech weight. Drift missed Ratchet and couldn’t recharge without him and well, he never really was the patient type and Ratchet IS really warm. 

Ratchet’s spark lurches at the agony in Drift’s voice as the medic turns to face him. “Drift…” Why couldn’t he just stay in the berth?! Why can't he ever listen?! Has it been that long? Ratchet checks the clock on the medibay wall, it has...poor kid...but, dammit! Now Rodimus is gonna see him and--

“Drift! What the frag are ya doing in there? You,” A hiccup and shake of his helm, “..ya should be in MY quarters…I’ve…I’ve been lookinz fer ya!” Rodimus snickers and hiccups again. “Your captain is cold and needs ta be warmed up! Get over here! It’s fragging coldz out there and I NEED you! Get. Over. Here. Now!” Rodimus accentuates his words with a slap to the mediberth at each word.

First Aid is speechless, yet again, as he looks over at his mentor, who in turn looks as if he is ready to snap Rodimus’ neck. He then drags his gaze to Drift, who looks as if his entire world has come crashing down around him. Oh no...

Drift is terrified. Oh if only he had stayed put! But Ratchet was gone for a long time and sounded upset and…well…Ratchet sounded upset! How was he to know Rodimus was out here...oh scrap…A very tiny whimper Drift hopes no one heard, escapes him as he painfully limps over to his captain, his helm hanging low, shoulders slumped. Walking is excruciating and it shows, the self-satisfied smirk on Rodimus’ face doesn’t help matters either.

“That’s it, my little…” Another hiccup followed by a lustful growl as Rodimus pats his lap, “…buymech, come here to your captain. You really don’t have to add the limp just for me, but I do like it,”

Drift's helm hangs even lower as he tries to hold back his shivering and shaking, along with the shame that burns through him as he hobbles over to Rodimus, but fails miserably at it.

Well if that just doesn’t boil the oil in Ratchets’ lines! That slagging piece of...Rodimus has no right!! “Drift is no buymech! Captain or not this is MY medibay and I am in charge, not you. You will NEVER again refer to Drift in that manner, do I make myself clear? His injuries are a direct result of YOUR actions and you will NEVER again touch him in that manner or any other way EVER again! Drift will be recovering in my hab suite for the next five cycles and that is FINAL! Tomorrow, when you are sober, you and I are going to have a VERY long chat outside this ship, blizzard or no blizzard!” Ratchet turns on his heel and very gently scoops up his stunned swordsmech bridal style. Without turning around, Ratchet addresses First Aid as he heads to his hab suite, “Aid, I’m done for the night, do not disturb me under any circumstances,”

Drift squeaks as Ratchet picks him up, relief filling his EM field. He leans his helm heavily on Ratchet's chest, shivering uncontrollably, nuzzling into his hero for warmth and support, whispering "I love you, Ratch" against his saviors chest.

"I love you too, kid"

First Aid cannot contain the smirk any more than the gleeful squeal in his reply to his CMO, “Understood and not a problem at all, sir! Goodnight you two!” Ahhh! Serves you right you slagger! First Aid hums happily and continues with the silently smoldering captains’ repairs. “Aren’t they just the CUTEST couple!?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! lol First kiss time folks! And some racer/medic lovin'! I do so hope you guys enjoy! XD

“NO! They ...they are not a cute couple, First Aid! Drift is MINE! We already, fragged, ya know…he wants me and that,” a hiccup and a snort from the very overcharged captain, “…that old aft Chief Medical Ocifer needs ta stay the hell out of it! Drift and I have been through a lot, ya know…don’t need any interference…” A few more hiccups and grumbles later, Rodimus passes out, leaving First Aid to finish his repairs in blessed silence.

“Thank, Primus!” First Aid mutters to himself. The apprentice finishes and cleans up, putting a comm into Ultra Magnus to come collect his temporary charge.

After everyone has been attended to and repaired, and most importantly, Rodimus gone, First Aid can now relax and be with Blurr. Well, it’s more like sit and watch his bondmate rest. This is his favorite time in the medibay when all is quiet and still, the dim lights emitting a soft glow that caresses and softens the hard, sterile edges, the various beeps, chirps and pumps creating a meditative symphony, filling the void left behind from the day’s cacophony. First Aid’s pedefalls are light and soft as he makes his way over to Blurr, climbing into the berth beside the blue racer and curling around him.

Blurr takes a deep intake; slowly fluttering his optic shutters as his optics slowly flicker online. The racer lazily turns his helm to face First Aid, a smile slowly curling its way on his lips. “H-Hey, pretty…”

First Aid’s spark flutters as his racer wakes. He leans in, laying a chaste kiss on Blurr’s forehelm, gently petting his helm fins, smiling brightly. “Hey, love, how are you feeling?”

“Mmm…better…n-now…” Blurr sends a pulse of love and affection over their bond, weakly pushing into those oh so very nice rubs to his helm fins. “I like it when you...h-hold me…mm…and I r-really like those rubs…” Blurr quietly revs his turbines, his optics darkening in lust, leaving no doubt as to just what thoughts are filling his processor, in his EM field and their bond.

“B-Blurr!” First Aid blushes underneath his mask, Blurr no doubt feeling all of it through their bond, and sputters. “We…Blurr...no…oh dear…you need rest…”

A sly, sexy grin snakes its way onto Blurr’s face while his fingers trace lazy lines up the medic’s inner thighs. “What I need is you fragging me senseless through this berth…”

“B-Blurr!!” First Aid sputters some more; his engine revving hard in response to the racer’s sensual ministrations. “We will…uhn…oh…oh Blurr…” Oh dear…are Blurr’s fingers…yes! Yes, they are! They are digging between First Aid’s panel and frame…and now OPENING his panel! “Blurr! N-No…we…oooooh … oh Blurr…” And there goes his spike, pressurizing right into Blurr’s hand… “Oh…y-yes…yes…oh Blurr…” First Aid can no longer help himself. He pulls his racer into a hot, desperate kiss as he climbs on top of him, delicious little whimpers escaping the writhing mass of blue beneath him, driving him wild. 

Blurr spreads his legs, smiling when he realizes he has BOTH legs, allowing First Aid room to fit between his strong thighs as his arms wrap around his medics neck. The racer keens as his mate kisses him with a desperation he feels as well. Blurr retracts his panel and valve cover, tipping his hips up to meet his Conjunx’s eager spike. As First Aid’s kiss moves from the racer’s lips to his neck, Blurr grins and gasps, his hands roaming frantically all over his medic. If someone had told Blurr back when he was racing that he would be helm over pede, ruthlessly, DESPERATELY in love and BONDED to anyone, let alone a medic, he would have laughed and dismissed it as a really bad joke. But now, well if he only knew about medics then what he knows now. Blurr smiles to himself. It’s more than that though…the love, the CARE, the understanding First Aid has for him is damn near unbelievable. His Aid actually loves him for him. For Blurr. Not because he was Ibex Cup Champion for ten cycles running. Not because he is STILL the fastest, hottest, sexiest Cybertronian to ever grace the face of the universe, but because Blurr is Blurr. First Aid see’s just who he is beneath all the beautiful plating, beyond the rumors…he actually GETS him. And First Aid loves him for it all. The good, the bad…it all! And that just revs his turbines in all the right ways!

A desperate moan escapes Blurr’s vocalizer as First Aid runs his hand up Blurr’s perfect thighs, his fingers dipping into the vents, stroking the slats, eliciting more high pitched gasps and just the most delicious mewls of pleasure. That same hand slides out and up, up over smooth plating and in between the racers side pipes. Wait for it…

“AH! AH! AH YES! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOHYESYESYESYESYESYESYEEEEEESAIDAIDAIDAIDAIDAIDAIDAIDAIDOHILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVELOVELOVELOVELOOOOOOOOOOOOVEYOUYOUYOUYOUYOUYOUYOUYOUOHPLEASEOHPLEASEOHPLEASEDON’TSTAAAAAAAAHHHHHPOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOYES!!!!!”

There it is! Primus Blurr is so fragging sexy! “UH! B-BLURR!” First Aid tosses his helm back, crying out in ecstasy as he overloads, charge rippling and crackling over his frame, converging with the heavy charge from Blurr and dissipating with a loud crack.

Blurr’s turbines whine loud as the racer overloads. His freshly mended lines pop and burst, sending coolant, oil and energon arcing in a fountain and collecting in a puddle on the medibay floor. Blurr’s frame is scorching hot; his stomach vents glowing red along with his side pipes, words rapidly sputtering from his shorting out vocalizer, a huge cheeky grin on his face. 

First Aid laughs lovingly and kisses his perfect racer one last time, carefully pulling out so that he can get to work mending the results of their impassioned love making. “I love you, my little racer,”

“MmmmsIloveloveloveloveyoutootootootoo,mysexywonderfuladorablemedic!”

***

“Mind telling me why the hell ya came out there?” Ratchet sits on his berth, still holding Drift. He grabs the blanket and pulls it up over them both, adjusting so that Drift is more comfortable. 

Drift nuzzles against Ratchet, snuggling under the blanket, rubbing his cheek against his medic’s chest. “You were gone a while…heard yelling…I…I was w-worried,” After a long moment, “…was lonely…don’t like being alone…”

Ratchet sighs and pulls Drift closer, kissing the top of his helm. “Worried…lonely. Aw, kid…what am I gonna do with you?” Ratchet’s spark warms.

Drift tilts his helm, looking up at Ratchet and gives him what he hopes is an adorably cheeky grin, “I have a few ideas, doc,”

Ratchet can’t help but laugh, his fingers under Drift’s chin, gently tipping his face upward. “I bet you do…” Ratchet smiles softly and whether he leans in or Drift leans up, their faces are inches apart and all Ratchet can think of is how sweet the beautiful swordsmech in his arms, in his berth, is and how very badly he wants to taste that sweetness. 

Drift’s spark races and thunders in his chest, his optics locked on Ratchet’s. “Ratch…” 

Without another wasted moment, Ratchet presses his lips to Drift’s. The squeak from Drift as their lips meet is just about the sweetest thing Ratchet has ever heard. Ever so delicately, Ratchet kisses his swordsmech, finding the awkwardness with which Drift kisses him back absolutely adorable. He was positive Drift had more experience, but the innocent behavior his cheeky speedster is displaying tells an entirely different story. And it’s certainly not looking like a good one.

Drift’s spark practically leaps from his chest; yearning to join with Ratchet’s the moment their lips meet. Warmth spreads like wildfire igniting the swordsmechs entire sensor net. His fuel pump hammers away, energon pumping and surging through his lines, his engine revving hard. Drift’s entire world is Ratchet, but then again, it always has been. For all Drift knows on how to please a mech in the berth, kissing is still a big mystery. It’s a level of intimacy the swordsmech is entirely unequipped to deal with. And it has been a VERY long time since he’s kissed anyone. Gasket was a lifetime ago, but that was…not like this. He was young then, not fully understanding love. And then there was Wing. Drift’s spark lurches at the memory of Wing. This is too much like Wing. The feelings are the same, but different. Wing died. What if Ratchet dies? Ratchet can’t die…oh Primus no…please…he couldn’t bear it…not again! Loosing Ratchet would kill him. Primus, losing Wing damn near did.

Ratchet opens his optics when Drift stops kissing him and the speedsters intakes start to sputter. “Kid?” Ratchet gently cups Drift’s face between his hands, rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs. “Hey, Drift, it’s alright…look at me. Its okay, we don’t have to continue. It’s perfectly okay,”

Drift opens his optics, a few tears dripping down and over Ratchet’s thumbs. Oh, Ratch… “Ratch…n-no, i-its fine…I like kissing you, well, love kissing you,” A tiny smile. “It’s just…I…I was thinking of…I mean, I…” Drift forces his ventilations to calm, yet blurts out, “I don’t want to lose you! I d-don’t want you to die! I couldn’t go on-“

“Aw, kid…” Ratchet pulls Drift into his lap and hugs him tight, planting a tender kiss upon his cheek and lovingly rubbing the swordsmechs finials. “Nothing will take this old medic from you, I can promise you that. I’m not going anywhere and, ya know, I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for, sweetspark,” Ratchet’s tone is warm and playful, yet serious enough to quell Drift’s fears.

Drift melts and calms the instant Ratchet starts to rub his highly sensitive finials, gasping softly and pushing into the intimate, gentle touch. “R-Ratch…I…that…oooooo…” Drift closes his optics and purrs, his lips slightly parting, soft little whimpers of pleasure taking flight. 

Ratchet’s fans click on as he watches Drift, mesmerized by his response from such a simple thing. Frag Drift is sexy as Pit. Ratchet gives a low, husky moan and runs his hand up Drift’s finial to the point, giving it a gentle pinch before slowly stroking downward to the base. Drift gasps loudly and bucks his hips up into Ratchet. Oh…oh my…Drift…

“Oh~ Ratch!” Drift whimpers and keens in pleasure, squirming in Ratchet’s embrace. 

Ratchet growls softly, hearing his name whimpered in pleasure from the writhing swordsmech in his lap is just too much to witness, so he does the first thing he can think of: smashes his lips to Drift’s, kissing his speedster with every bit love he has.


End file.
